&#i’m here with all of my people;;locked up with all of my people;;so let me hear you scream if you’re with me#&

time: 8;17pm

listening: the presets / .collection(q)

eating: nothing; between courses =P

You might have gathered by now that my blog is not really intended to recount the minute details of my life (if you haven’t, you may or may not want to discontinue reading; it obviously isn’t really worth the effort), but rather, my thoughts on the world as related to something happening in my life. Usually. Today is an exception, but I still can’t be bothered to write an essay about myself, so you will just have to deal with bullet points.

On the subject of camp

• I sliced open my finger (only shallow, don’t get all worried) on a bottle of ginger beer which smashed in my bag about 10 minutes before we were supposed to leave; it hurt, but it was also a very good way to jump the queue onto the bus.
• I managed to (finally) pull an all-nighter. With Dara as my companion, we used gingerbread men and UNO to make it past that 4 o’clock mark. So much fun.
• I directed a canoe of blindfolded people quite successfully, and we ended up winning. Because really, winning is all we care about at St George. Yes, thankyou Alison, it is always nice to have your flaws pointed out to you about fifty times.
• I received quite a number of strange looks when I raised my hand in Sally’s talk. Not going to explain, but any St Georgian will get me. If you were one of those people who stared at me, all I can say is that you are rather insensitive, and may want to go searching through your maths notes for some compassion.
• I lost all tolerance (oh wow, she really is a hypocrite) for people who would not. just. jump.
• I took 24 photos on a disposable camera which I was given by Ms Horley. That was so much more of a mission than I would have thought.
• I drank a rather large amount of V whilst stacking 16 crates on top of each other.

What a camp.

On the weekend (another list.. because who doesn’t love a good list)

• I went out to dinner twice; once with my mum’s side of the family, and once with just my family
• I convinced my two and a half year old twin cousins to choose another cubby house, not in the ferns behind the security guard eating his Subway dinner. He didn’t smile. Ever.
• I bought four croissants at 8 in the morning, because I’m such a loving daughter.
• I went to a jazz thing in a pub in Balmain, which was brilliant. I ended up being hit on by an 80 year old man, who kept talking to me. At least he was better than the one my sister got; he was about 50 and actually asked her to dance, where he proceeded to practically molest her. Escaping from the old man, I ended up dancing with Mil’s music teacher. A very fun night, involving a nice sms convo with an equally nice boy.

So there’s my life in a nutshell since last week. I hope I bored you as much as I bored myself.

&#but the story needs some mending;;and a better happy ending;;cos i don’t want the next best thing#&

time: 9;12pm

listening: a very good playlist made 30 minutes ago

eating: some chocolate slice thing

I am beginning to suspect that there’s something wrong with the world; I may even go so far as to say that it is severely screwed up. A quick glance at the SMH site does not really yield much hope; instead, I find that apparently three babies have been found dead in a freezer in Germany. Mugabe (though he seems to have already lost some sort of vote) is trying to extend his rule by a year. A father has supposedly killed his wife and two children after she posted the fact that they were splitting up on Facebook.

I still believe that eventually, there will be a “war to end all wars“. Unlike World War 1, which did nothing of the sort, I hold firm to the fact that human kind will wipe itself out with some sort of nuclear explosion. This may seem quite radical; but thinking about it, it’s not as if we’re really smart enough not to. It scares me that one of the most influential, powerful people in the world is an arrogant, idiotic white guy in the form of George Bush. So much power; so little brain capacity to comprehend what to do with it.

I am still in awe of the people who refuse to accept that global warming is occurring; no matter what you label it, something’s happening. Coral bleaching, melting ice shelfs, droughts, floods, mucked up seasons in general… it’s not something that is just going to go away. So while the politicians of the world debate its legitimacy in the first place, I can only say thank god for the scientists who are trying to do something about it.

But while this madness rages around me, I’d like to say that my own little world, which naturally revolves around me, is doing just fine.

See, I delight in the simple things in life.

Red tights.

Cereal eaten from cups.

Finding a really good pen.

Listening to my friends play guitar and sing for me.

Solitaire.

Conversations on msn at 2 in the morning.

Jigsaw puzzles.

That sort of thing.

Really, you could give me an empty room with a few friends and a stereo and I’d be set.

So why does our world always feel the need to one-up itself in the insanity stakes?

Who knows… I guess I’ll just go do a puzzle or something.

&#i bought it in a can;;and stirred it with my finger;;singing boom da da da;;threw it out the window#&

time: 12;32am

listening: architecture in helsinki

eating: a bottle of water which is entirely too small

So we have camp coming up next week, and my friends and I were discussing various things, which I will get to in a second.

Firstly, though, for those who don’t know my group’s standing in our grade, I will give a brief overview. Known as “The Blondes” (2/8, but I guess blonde compared to our year) or “The Shires” (3/8… better?) or any combination of the two, my group seems to have gained the reputation of grade bitches, probably owing to a number of things.

1. We have (apparently) kicked a number of people out of our group

I would like to say here (and I wish more people in our grade would actually read this), we have only ever kicked one person out of our group. The “Semitrailer on a Sinking Ship” line which seems to have become quite infamous will never be fully understood by anyone outside our group. Everyone else who has left our group has left of their own accord.

2. The “No one in, no one out” Policy

I don’t even know why I’m dignifying this by bringing it up. It’s such a load of bullshit, made up by people who don’t have anything going on in their own sad lives, so gossip about ours. Give up.

3. We are racist

I’ve been told and insinuated to too many times to count that, if an Asian were to join our group, they wouldn’t last. I find this highly offensive, mainly because I am not racist in the slightest. I have many friends in our year who are Asian and other various cultures, if people would care to notice. My best friend is half-Malaysian, and a valued member of our group. The fact that we have no full-Asians in our group is not a product of racism, but rather just the way things worked out. The thing I love about this country is how we condemn white people if they are not best friends with other cultures, and yet other cultures could be bitches to us and we have to take it. I have never heard anyone diss any of the number of completely Asian groups in our grade. Just saying.

The fact that my group is confident and outgoing, and don’t really care what other people think of us, is mistaken for complete arrogance at darling St. George, where it is more respectable to keep your head down and get that UAI your parents have always dreamed you would.

I’m sorry if we choose to live our lives while we do it.

So yes, the inspiration for this ranting and overwhelmingly racist (it would seem to others, but that’s really not where I’m coming from with this) blog, was camp.

The point was that we were given our activity groups today. We were allowed to choose our cabin groups, but activity groups are assigned. They were made up of a bunch of people thrown together (ie. down the list, 1, 2, 3, 4…), and my friend asked our year advisor why. She replied with the generic “To help you meet new people and become friends with more people in your grade.” I fail to see how helpful this could be; we’re in Year 11. If we were going to make friends with them, you’d hope that we already had by now. Anyone I’m not friends with yet probably isn’t really worth the effort. So why can’t I just do the bloody activities with people I want to do them with? Gosh.

I have also been asked a number of times what our group will be dressing up as. I didn’t even realise we were supposed to be dressing up until asked this, and after minimal discussion we now have a theme. I think everyone was secretly hoping we’d do “The Plastics” again.

Finally, I can warn you of a few things.

It is likely that we will play loud music whilst crashing your rooms and dancing around like idiots before running out again.

It is even more probable that we will be up the back of the bus, blasting that same music (Heart It Races, anyone?) whether you want to hear it or not.

And you can definitely bet your life that we will not care what you think of us while we do it.

&#what;;happened?#&

I have had some people asking to read my short story for extension. I got sick of sending it to them, so here it is, enjoy

The ballerina swings from her wrist, a silver beacon in the dark night. She dashes through the bombarding rain, small cold pellets of anger assaulting her every move. Shoved through the night by people who she would never see again. Still, there she was, being nice, being helpful, being polite. Being everything the world expected her to be.

What happened?

Crowded onto a train, like a scrum in a game of rugby. She is losing this game. She doesn’t mind. She doesn’t turn around and hurl abuse at the seedy man who just took advantage of the crowd to take advantage of her. She is polite. The train doors close on her bag. So full, so crowded. She sees their faces rush by. A station full of people. Full of people who matter and do not, all at once. Reflections in the window. She rides the subway as she rides through her life. With too much attention directed at too many of the wrong things. Always at attention. Like the people on the station. The people who matter and do not, all at once.

What happened?

Rushed up the steps and into the waiting arms of a night as cold as Death. Was Death cold? Would it make a difference? It was just a saying. Life was just sayings. She didn’t have a fancy to tickle; there was no real calm before a true storm. So did it matter if Death was cold? She supposed not. She stands outside her house. Not exactly the house which she had dreamed of since her youth. When she chose a white-picket-fenced life for herself. With a white wedding dress and white flowers filling the house that only she could have made a home. Not exactly that life.

What happened?

The children are crowding her. Like at the station. The children, must help the children, must feed the children, must read to the children, are the children alright, are the children learning, are the children happy? The children seem happy. Could help the children more if she was happier herself. Must be happier. She tucks the children in, says good-night despite the lack of good on this particular night. This isn’t the way she wanted to live, sayings and lies, pretending it was all fine, all good, all happy.

What happened?

A pain, a driving needle in her head, a knife slicing her open. Need Panadol. Need meds. These aren’t the meds she needs. She wants to refill her prescription. Maybe anti-depressants are best, she tells herself. Maybe not for me, but maybe for the children. Must be happier. For the children. Why did he leave? What was wrong with her? It’s not you, it’s me, he said to her as she sobbed into the night, crying into the night for him to come back, weeping into the night as cold as Death. Or not. Either way, if it wasn’t her, why was he going? Leaving her the children, it will be better for them, better to not see me this way, better to be away from the drink and the abuse, it’s all my fault, all my fault we are like we are, he said. How did we let it get this far? We were happy once.

What happened?

Must be happier again. For the children. She systematically shuts down her house. The house she hadn’t ever really wanted. The house without the white picket fence and white flowers. The house that never really became a home. Turn off the light in the kitchen, the hallway, the living room. Lock the front door, lock the window that looks onto the street. The street where her children play. The street full of drug-addicts and seedy men. Who take advantage of crowds to take advantage of women. Must get out of here. Lock the back door, the door leading onto the garden. The garden which was, in essence, a small patch of dying grass and a smaller patch of already-dead vegetables. Her dead and dying attempt to make the house a home. But it never really filled its role. Not really. She unlocks the door again. She slips out into the night. The night as cold as Death. Wearing nothing but a red imitation-silk gown and a silver bracelet. The bracelet which her mother gave her. Her mother had been a wonderful woman. Her mother had been caring, devoted, loving. Everything the world expected her to be.

What happened?

She scuttled like a mouse along the bank of the river, watching the eddies swirl with delight. Watching a fish get caught up in the swirling, watching it go for a ride. Unlike her, it wasn’t really paying attention to its ride. She wished she were as carefree as that fish. She caught herself, being stupid, wishing she were a fish, carefree and absent of responsibility. She caught herself, dreaming of a life which wasn’t hers. Be happy with what you have, she says. For the children. She stops running. She knows it is time to stop running. Stop caring, stop feeding, stop reading, stop everything. Just stop. But could she? Could she do it to the two innocent beings who depended on her for life, for food, for books, for learning, for everything? She supposed not. Again. The river looks so calm. Maybe there is a calm before a storm, after all. Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe she couldn’t bring on the storm she so desperately wanted to. She couldn’t throw it all away, into a swirling river on a night as cold as Death. Could she? But what of the children? She mustn’t. For the children. Mundane as it is, her life means something to someone. She hopes. She was so ready to let go.

What happened?

The ballerina would have danced her final show. The audience would have cheered as she took her bow. She would have pirouetted off the stage, out of the brilliant white lights. The silver beacon in a dark night.

&#you do it to yourself;;you do;;and that’s what really hurts;;you do it to yourself;;just you;;you and no one else#&

time: 9;49pm

listening: radiohead

eating: cadbury turkish delight icecream - the best icecream from a tub i am yet to find

I’ve always had so many plans for my life.

Usually for small things in my life; for example, this holidays, I was going to do an hour of maths each day, to help with the fact that I very nearly failed my 3U test this term by literal standards, and completely failed by my own. The key words in this statement were “going to”. Of course, I am sitting here with but a few days left of my two weeks, with half an exercise done in half an hour.

This year I was going to work hard. Be motivated. Get good marks. Satisfy my standards. Well I fucked that up royally last term.

I always tell myself that I will do something, and never end up doing it.

I’m starting to think that I may just end up going through my whole life like this… the problem is, it’s not going to get me anywhere. I always discuss the things I would like to do with my life; well, Caitlin, this is it.
So why aren’t you doing them?

Something always comes up, I’m always too busy, I’m just not in the right mood. When will I be?

Educationally speaking, my main goal is to get into uni. More specifically (as that is pretty much a given), to get into some form of science/medicine/related at Sydney Uni. I know how hard I’ll have to work to do this, but it’s my dream, so can’t I just find the motivation to get me where I want to be? It would seem not.

Bloody hell.

I had so many grand plans for my life.

One day, I will build a treehouse. A proper one. Because I have always wanted to.

I’m just searching for the tree.

&#lights will guide you home;;and ignite your bones;;and i will try to fix you#&

time: 11;31 am

listening: coldplay

eating: mocha hazelnut tim tam

Hello sunshines! Here is where the sporadity (word?) of my blog comes into play.

Anyway.

I was thinking the other day (I know, shock horror) about how much you don’t know about people’s lives. And how many people there are in the world. And how they all have different lives, completely separate, completely untangled, with mine.

And I find this concept quite overwhelming.

Because, really, I have only ever seen the world through my eyes. Not a single person in this world knows the exact same people as I do. Not a single person in the world is sitting here in my bedroom typing this but me. I find this concept so… strange. But interesting. And amazing.

Moving on from stupid ponderings of mine (”Will humans ever be able to teleport?”), to something much better that I have also come to realise in recent times.

I have some really, wonderfully, brilliantly caring friends. I’ve always known this, I just don’t think I appreciated it fully until a short time ago. The friend who, when I tell them I just want to get out of the house and away from my family sometimes, says “Just walk round to my place, you’re always welcome.”, and not even in a joking way. The friend who calls me worried about me because I didn’t reply on MSN. The friend who counsels me on New Year’s because I’m having a hard time. Where did I stumble on these people? Why am I so lucky? When did I do something so right that I got a friend whose mother calls me up with a dilemma about chocolate and fudge? God.

I think I’m in an appreciative mood.

I think I know why.

But that’s a story for another day.

&#this is the way you left me;;i’m not pretending;;no hope, no love, no glory;;no happy ending#&

time: 10;58pm

listening: mika

eating: tears

I realised something tonight.

Why I go in, why I shut down, why I act so indifferent to the whole thing.

Why I can’t be bothered to reply to his emails.

Why I don’t want to talk to him.

Why I have nothing to say to anyone.

It’s because if I acknowledge it, if I have to pretend to be getting on with life how I used to, if I show any sign of caring, even to myself, it’ll just plain hurt too much.

And really, I’m still only a child.

No-one deserves that kind of hurt.

Especially not from their own father.

&#if all you have is leaving;;i’ma need a better reason;;to write you;;a love song;;today#&

time: 12;04am

listening: sara bareilles

eating: nothing

So tonight I watched two movies… well I watched one but flicked to another during the ads cos I had already seen the latter.

These movies, which I should probably mention as being In Her Shoes (main) and Pride And Prejudice, Keira Knightley version,  (flicker), got me thinking about two things.

1. What I would do in life without my brother and sister, but particularly this movie, my sister and;

2. My sad love life.

Number 2 was also compounded by the wonderful occasion of Valentine’s Day two days ago (as it is now Saturday). As usual, I did not have a Valentine. Well not a proper one. I did however have a best friend. I’ll explain later but at the moment I’m getting sidetracked. Ok?

1. Pretty much this got me thinking about what life would be like without my sister. It was a very depressing thought. I can absolutely hate her at times, be completely disgusted at her, and she’ll say one thing and I’ll be laughing my head off. She is the only person in this world of 6 billion who can do that to me. Not even my best friends have anywhere near that influence. I spose that’s cos Mil really is my best friend; people may hurt me, friends may turn out to be bitches, but family will never leave you, no matter how much you piss each other off. My brother can be the same; he’s an absolute pain but I love him to bits and wouldn’t trade him for anything… a walking encyclopedia who doesn’t take himself too seriously, and isn’t too busy for his little sister. So yeh.

Slightly emo child as I am, (and this is quite strange for me to admit, so if you bag me out I will personally kill you), I sometimes think about people dying. Like, say, my mum. Or my sister. If I was at school and my phone rang, and someone told me that I needed to come home straight away. And I found out that my sister had been killed in a car accident. And she was gone, just like that. If I’m in a sad mood anyway, even the thought of my sister or anyone in my family dying can almost make me cry. If I was an actor in some low budget movie that’s how I would fake cry; I would think about someone dying. Depressing, huh?

Onto another depressing but rather more superficial topic:

2. My love life! (or lack thereof)

I will start with the movieness. Pride and Prejudice, and I have decided that, pathetic as I am, I can only dream of anything like that ever happening to me. Cos really, it only happens in the movies, doesn’t it? Well seeing as how no-one reads this blog anyway I can admit what I like. I would love for someone to confess their love for me in the pouring rain (like Mr Darcy to Elizabeth). To walk in the morning fog and meet that same someone. There you have it my children, I am a hopeless romantic.

Slight obstacle to this.

I have never had a boyfriend, and do not appear likely to acquire one in the near future. I don’t fall for guys easily, but when I do, I fall hard. I was hung up on a certain guy for at least a term, and still would not reject him even now (though I like to kid myself I’ve moved on. Yay for false pretences.). So where does that leave me? With a dream that someone, someday, will wait till it’s raining and then decide they love me, I guess.

And back to Valentine’s Day. Quite a depressing day for singles each year, I dare say. I know it slightly is for me each year, due to said obstacle and followed lack of Valentine. Well this year, two Very Nice Things happened.

The first was that one of my best friends (a guy who happens to be going out with one of my other friends) took it upon himself to buy me a rose and surprise me, just cos he knew I wasn’t expecting anything. This made me really happy cos it showed me that love on Valentine’s Day isn’t just for boyfriends or girlfriends, it can also be for good friends.

The second Very Nice Thing was also a non-boyfriend/girlfriend/partner Thing. As I’ve mentioned before, my parents got separated late last year. Obviously, this being the first Valentine’s Day since, it was going to be tough for my mum. I didn’t quite know how to treat it but didn’t have time to do anything anyway. But my brother bought her a box of her favourite chocolates and a card and left it out for her for when she got home from work. It made her so happy.

The card said this:

“Just so you know, your love means the world to us.”

I don’t really know why, but I almost cried when I read that.

I guess it’s because it’s so true.

&#here goes;; better throw my hand in;; wish me happy landin’;; all i gotta do is jump#&

time: 11;12pm

listening: old disney songs

eating: air

Tonight I read a blog. It was that of a girl my sister is good friends with. Now this girl tends to be rather melodramatic, especially when she writes. But what she wrote kinda hit home, and got me thinking about my own life.

The general gist of it was that she had turned 17, and cried. She went out to dinner with her friends, and only half the table turned up. When dinner was over, they all went home, because they had things to do the next day. She said in her blog that, at the time, all she wanted to do was camp out and watch movies. But she realised, everyone was growing up. No-one really had time for childhood things anymore.

And that is what got me.

We’re all growing up so fast. Childhood, adolescence, it only happens once in a life. Children spend years wanting to be more grown up, more mature, have more responsibility. But if you ask any adult, anyone past the age of 30, they would give anything to go back to the time before children, before fulltime-gottapaythebillsandfeedthehousehold-work. God, ask any teenager, and many just want to go back to a sheet of maths mentals for homework, stuck-in-the-mud at recess, lazy afternoons on hot days at school. To going home and having time to watch cartoons on TV, to waking up on Saturday mornings and, instead of leaving the house at 7am to go to work at the local cafe and then coming home to a couple of hours of homework, just staying in their pyjamas all day while watching Saturday Disney.

I did hardly anything this weekend. Due to our rained out swimming carnival, I had an extra day on Friday which gets lumped into that weekend. So I can effectively sum up three days like this:

• 2 and a half movies. Actually make that 3 and a half.
• 2 hours of school work, all ridiculously inefficiently completed
• 1 and a half hours cleaning my house
• 3 pages read of the book I am supposed to have completed by the end of this week
• 1 attempt to go out with my friends (cancelled)
• 1 hot chocolate with my mum after seeing Juno
• About 10 million talks about my dad (who, incidentally, is leaving my mum, so watch out for references to him, I’m not altogether too happy with him right now)
• 3 days wasted.

Priceless?

So back to my original point.

I am wasting my life away. I am doing nothing, just existing, not living, and I plan on changing that. I’m sick of just being bored. Too much time on this godforsaken computer. I’m going to start making time for good things.

After all, youth is a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Hell, life is a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

&#one more chain i break;;to get me closer to you;;one more chain does the maker make;;to keep me from bursting through#&

time: 9;49pm

listening: rufus wainwright & rain falling

eating: cereal

well here i am.

i suddenly find myself in possession of a blog but not a whole lot to write in it.

as suggested by the name of my blog, i will ramble. this is already a given. if you don’t like my disjointed logic, i am not forcing you to read this.

so… seeing as how this is my first post i should probably introduce myself in some way. seeing also as how no-one will read this but my friends (if you’re not my friend, and are instead stalking me, a cheery hello!), an introduction is probably not necessary. in short (or not so short):

• my name is caitlin but i am introduced and referred to as westy by all my friends. i have had various interpretations of why i am named westy (i have been called a bogan, a slut, and have been asked if i live in the western suburbs), but, most simply, it is my last name plus a y. it stuck as a nickname like none i have heard before.
• i go to a selective school for girls. it is often confused with a christian school nearby, and our principal is a bitch, but i love it and wouldn’t be anywhere else. it has very nice grounds, which helps I am in year 11 and am doing ext. english, ext. maths, physics, chemistry and latin. when i tell people this, it is often greeted with “Wow, that’s going to be a lot of work!” or “Wow, you must be so smart!” I don’t really know how to answer either of these remarks, because 1. obviously i realise that it is a lot of work and don’t want to be reminded and 2. i have had this particular remark said to me many times throughout my life and still haven’t worked out an appropriate response (just a little bit pretentious to say “Yeh, I am”, and a little bit lying to say “Oh, not really”. If you can think of something comfortably in the middle, please let me know. I will be forever grateful.)
• i am eagerly awaiting my 16th birthday which signifies (to me at least), not the age that i can legally screw a tech, but rather the age that i can legally drive.
• there are a number of people who have fallen into my life without whom i would not be the same person i am today; in no order; tori, amy, seyah, mel, lucas, christopher, maggie, laura, bianca, beckyy, katherine, cam, junior, nicholas james karvountzis, johnny boy, the list goes on (shire crew represent!). you have changed me forever. get out your cliche, but it’s true. i will tell you about them all someday.
• i have a family i love to pieces, who i will also tell you about someday.
• photography is my passion
• i enjoy jigsaws and playing cards
• i could not live without my music (death cab, rufus wainwright, the thrills, orson, coldplay, tegan&sara, savage garden, many more), or my musicals, a love passed on to me from my sister. i’m going to see phantom of the opera and wicked this year and i am so immensely excited that you would not believe it (my sister told me that anthony warlow was coming back to be the phantom and i choked on my drink).
• i love gloria jeans
• i am a grammar nazi
• i laugh at inappropriate times, i sing without restraint, and i smile at people i don’t know just to see if they’ll smile back.

and that’s me.